


Just Business

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Gap Filler, No Slash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Season/Series 02, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-18
Updated: 2004-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: AU version of 213; what if Lindsey and Melanie had never interrupted Brian when he was spanking Justin?





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Rewatching 213-214, I was floored at just how much love and concern Brian has for Justin in his quest to "be the best homosexual he can be" and get a job to pay for school. It's interesting; only two episodes or so later, we see Justin's ideals start to get in the way of him being able to "read" Brian the way he's been able to since early season one, but even right before their relationship spirals utterly downward, Brian's reaction to and concern over Justin getting in over his head with Sap as a go-go dancer are near-blinding testimony to how much he cares for The Little Twink That Could (Get in Under the Wire). 

That said, this is my answer to one of the eternal questions that has plagued mankind - or at least, the segment of the human population that watches "Queer as Folk" - for, like, three years: "what if Melanie and Lindsey hadn't interrupted Brian when he was spanking Justin?" Dedicated to "kick_it_harder" and "spinnacle", because they are really encouraging about my various porn-writing endeavors.

...

When Justin tells Brian that his father is going to play up the role of homophobic dickhead more than he already has and stop paying for Justin's education, Brian immediately reaches for his day planner so he remembers to stop by the bank the next day. It is not something he thinks about, in the same vein as doling out money to the munchers for his son. He's not quite sure what Justin is to him - his boyfriend, his responsibility, his lover, the guy he's broken entirely too many of his rules for and will probably break twice as many before they're through - but he does know that Justin is an artist and should have every opportunity to make something of himself. 

But Justin is also too fucking idealistic for his own good. "I can't take your money," he says, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Brian can't help but being frustrated - he doesn't like being called on the floor about his generosity, prefers to just quietly lend a hand so his cold-hearted ad exec persona is kept carefully in-tact. It's more of a self-protection thing than anything, with the added ego boost that comes with watching those close(r than he'd ever admit) to him succeed. And for the most part, everybody accepts and appreciates this - and him - from a distance.

But Justin is not everybody, and has, as Debbie all-too-astutely points out, gotten under the wire and secured himself not only as a more permanent fixture in Brian's life than any of his tricks before, but also as somebody Brian deeply respects the opinions and behaviors of. Justin's a smart kid, more intelligent and ballsy than most people Brian surrounds himself with, let alone for his age, and can hold his own and break through Brian's flimsy facades without hardly breaking a sweat. 

This, of course, does not apply to their bedroom behavior. Not that Brian has to worry about Justin being in over his head - the kid was made for sex ever since Brian gave him an appraising glance underneath that streetlamp at Babylon, sex that's not only sweaty, but hard, hot, and penetrating. 

Unfortunately, Brian's words do not seem to penetrate the layer of Justin's brain that makes him foolhardy and unable to accept anything without feeling like he's earned it, and Brian tells him how irritating it is, in so many words. "Stop being a twat," he says unhappily as Justin crosses his arms and rolls his eyes when Justin refuses to let him see his loan statements. "I just want to help you."

"I don't need your help," Justin insists, and Brian tangles his hands in his hair frustratedly. They argue about it in intervals, snapping at one another like some goddamned heterosexual married couple, except Brian suspects that most straight couples do not momentarily set their differences aside so one can give the other a quick blow-job on the way to work. He also suspects that the old fart who looked on with an expression of half-disdain, half-amazement from the neighbouring vehicle drove home and had the best masturbation session of his entire fucking geriatric life. 

The two are at Babylon when Justin first gets the "brilliant" idea to be a go-go dancer. Brian is immediately skeptical; for one, there's the nagging feeling that, even though he has ground it into Justin's head that there are no locks on their doors, that they're free to come and go as they please and fuck whomever they want, he doesn't like the idea of everyone drooling over Justin, scantily-clad and gyrating to bad techno music, no less. 

Jealousy-that-he-won't-admit-to-even-himself-about aside, though, Brian finds himself genuinely concerned about the *other* aspects of the job. While recreational drugs and a list of phone numbers longer than Brian's cock seem like fringe benefits, Brian has heard a few select things about Gary ("Sap") Saperstein, the owner - one isn't Liberty Avenue's most coveted stud for over a decade without being well tuned into the gossip of his fellow fags - and hardly any of them set his mind at ease. He knows that the only way to get ahead in such an establishment is to provide head; it's just business. And even though Brian has taught Justin to be careful, the entire scenario still manages to set his teeth on edge.

But Justin is persistent, refusing even to accept Brian's money on a loan, and the older man bites the inside of his cheek in frustration, not wanting to admit how much the situation bothers him, and realizing that Justin probably knows already, anyway. He continues to hold his tongue when Justin bounces into the loft the next afternoon, excited because he has just joined the working world and Brian doesn't want to piss on his parade, such that it is. And then Justin strips down to his underwear and tosses a CD on - Brian, as it turns out, has a bigger collection than Babylon, and much more diverse than the thumpa-thumpa tunes that so characterize the club atmosphere - and Brian decides that some of the fringe benefits aren't half-bad, after all.

"Try not to step on my wontons," Brian snarks as Justin sways and wiggles atop his coffee table. He turns the music off and Justin climbs down, plopping unceremoniously against Brian's side on the sofa. The older man sucks a noodle into his mouth thoughtfully as Justin relays the details of his "job interview". 

"He said I'd be pulling anywhere from two to three-hundred a night!" Justin crows, bouncing gleefully on the couch. His bright smile is almost enough to put Brian's mind at ease, but all the same, he can't help but think that the promise of fast cash is blinding Justin to possible realities of a potentially negative situation. But again, Brian thinks, this isn't the time for his lesbionic fretting.

"Well," Brian tsks teasingly, tweaking Justin's nose, "that'd better be all you're pulling, young man. And remember," he continues with mock-gruffness, "you still have your schoolwork to do."

"And what if I don't?" Justin husks saucily, eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Mmm," Brian considers, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "Then you'll have to be spanked."

"Oh, yeah?" Justin says challengingly, grinning widely. "Just try it." 

Brian pauses for a moment, considering. He and Justin have done a lot of things, but never concentrated spanking. Brian likes the idea a lot, though, the more he turns it over in his head; Justin has the most delectable bubble butt in all of Pittsburgh, and just the thought of it turning progressively redder and redder under his ministrations, of Justin rubbing himself frantically against Brian's lap and squealing and crying out for more almost makes him hard. 

He surprises Justin by wrapping an arm heavily around his shoulders and tossing him face-down across his legs. Justin squawks indignantly and growls as Brian yanks his underwear down, and the noise goes straight to Brian's dick. "Don't move," Brian breathes, and it sounds much too throaty for an actual threat, so he quickly follows it up with a hearty smack with his open palm to keep Justin from calling him on it. Justin's breath audibly catches in his throat and Brian grins devilishly. Smack. Smack. "You like it?" he asks, delighting in the way the fair skin of Justin's bottom has already begun to grow pink. 

"Ow!" Justin gasps, and Brian tells himself he would certainly stop if the boy were actually in real pain, but the cheeky smile on his face assures him that Justin is just putting on a show. "I was kidding!" the blond cries out, squirming more frantically as Brian's hand deals him a series of lightly stinging blows. There's a lust evident in his voice, now, and Brian picks up on it the way a shark is drawn to the scent of blood. "Stop, stop," Justin begs, but he's panting a bit and both men know he's not serious. 

Justin's ass cheeks are a soft red, now, and Brian alternates the hardness of his slaps so that the boy doesn't quite know what to expect. Justin hasn't completely given himself over to the scenario yet, but he's close; "oh, yeah," he moans, eyes beginning to glaze over. Splayed out, debauched and wanton over Brian's lap with his expensive Levi briefs pulled down just enough for the front to still be sheathing his now attentive cock, Justin suddenly feels a bit like a swooning heroine. "Don't hurt me too badly," he squeals in light, breathy falsetto, and he hears Brian chuckle in response. 

"Perish the thought," Brian murmurs, delivering an especially sharp series of smacks with the edge of his palm for emphasis. He continues this relentlessly for several moments, Justin bucking and wildly grasping for fistfuls of the plush couch cushion in vain, producing some of the prettiest, most erotic sounds Brian has ever heard. He brings his hand down over and over, reveling in the heat building in his hand, the sound as it connects again and again with Justin's fleshy ass, and the jerky, spasmodic movements of the rest of Justin's body as he rubs his dick against Brian's clothed lap every so often. "Ohhhh, God, y-yes," Justin moans, eyes watering now. 

Finally, Brian stops, willing himself to quit before he actually causes any damage. He rubs his hand over the warm surface, the tenderness a stark contrast from only a moment before, and the blond's appreciative groaning is indicative of the fact that he notices the difference. Justin's ass is now a brilliant, firey colour, the skin slightly raw. "You're hard," Brian notes with satisfaction, watching Justin rut against him. He reaches underneath the boy, fondling him through his underwear, and Justin lets out another growl, this time much more heavily tinged with need. Unable to resist, Brian slips his hand inside, cupping Justin's balls, running smooth fingers up and down his erect cock; he swipes his thumb over the head, wiping a bit of pre-come off with it, and Justin keens, mouth opening in a wide 'o' that Brian is sure has to be illegal in at least three states. 

"So are you," Justin grounds out in defense, wetting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut, hoping the ministrations continue. And Brian *is* quite hard, he realizes, but he wants to draw this out, wants to keep Justin on the edge for a while, to make his first spanking - because he seriously doubts that the boy's WASP parents ever employed the tactic as punishment, even - particularly memorable. It's this thought that keeps him from simply rolling a condom onto his own dick and turning Justin over to make him ride it. Yet.

"I noticed," Brian smirks, and, delivering one last smack to Justin's ass, shifts the boy off of him just enough so he can stand up. "Stay here," he orders, unable to resist pinching one of the raw, reddened globes. Justin whines and moves to slip his hand down the front of his underwear, but Brian stops him. "And no touching yourself while I'm gone." 

"Not fair," Justin pouts, but obliges anyway, eager to see where this is heading. His eyes follow Brian to the kitchen, watches as Brian pulls out an ice cube tray and carries it to the coffee table, plucking a couple of frozen squares out. Realizing he has Justin's undivided attention, Brian makes a show of sliding one of the cubes into his mouth, slipping it back and forth between his lips until they're almost as vibrant a red as Justin's ass. He licks the moistened cube, droplets of water wettening his tongue, grinning around his mouthful because Justin is glaring at him in frustration now, erection neglected and pressing into the couch. 

Brian grips the second cube between his thumb and forefinger, wetting it just a bit before placing it against the pale skin of Justin's back. The boy jerks, shoulder blades quivering as Brian slides it down his spine with agonizing slowness. He lets it rest on the small of Justin's back, condensating a bit and puddling in the arch of his body, then kneels down, tugging Justin's underwear the rest of the way down and off. The ice cube in his mouth is but a mere sliver, now, and Brian chews the rest of it up, rubbing the other cube lightly across Justin's crack. 

"Aaahh," Justin hisses, squirming. "B-Brian, it's cold-"

"Don't move, Sunshine," Brian chides. He presses the ice cube between Justin's ass cheeks, delighting in the way Justin bucks and squeaks. His leg muscles twitch, the soft hairs on the back of his thighs standing up, brushing against Brian's arm as he carefully works the ice cube around Justin's tight channel. Bowing his head, Brian suddenly replaces his fingers with his mouth, icy tongue darting out to slide the shrinking cube around inside of Justin's ass. His hands grip the still-reddened buttocks, lightly but firmly, kneading them even as he pulls them further apart to allow his tongue better access. His fingers leave white imprints, striping Justin's ass, and somehow, the thought of marking his lover in this small way makes Brian even harder than he already is.

"F-fuck, Brian," Justin gasps, and it's obvious that he's as much into the scenario as Brian at this point. He spreads his legs wider, silently begging for more, more of Brian's tongue, cold from the ice, inside of his ass, more of the sensations that fill his stomach with butterflies and make him light-headed and dizzy. Brian's tongue plows still deeper, his lips making slurping sounds as he sucks up droplets of water that the ice cube has left behind, and Justin lets out a soft wail; he tries to propel his ass upwards, to impale himself on Brian's tongue as it spears his prostate again and again, but Brian chuckles and pulls himself up, away from the concave of Justin's ass. 

"No, d-don't stop," Justin whines, cheek pressed against the couch cushion in frustration. Brian doesn't answer at first, just reaches over to the coffee table and plucks two more ice cubes from the tray. "Turn over," he says, and even though the tone is light-hearted, playful, almost, Justin knows it is not a request, but an order. 

Justin settles himself on his back, head nestled just below the arm of the expensive Italian furniture. He grins a little as Brian positions himself between Justin's legs, smiling as the older man's fingers caress his thighs with one hand. In the other, Brian grips the next two ice cubes chosen to be part of their little game, bringing one up to rub against Justin's lips. The boy's tongue swirls around it, and Brian just watches him for a moment, transfixed by the movements of his mouth. Eventually, though, he presses the ice cube into the orifice, watching it bob between his lover's lips; Justin groans and blinks at him curiously, then arches up as Brian slides the other ice cube around his left nipple. Nimble hands swoop down, to cradle Brian's, perhaps, but Brian just tsks.

"Ah ah ah," he chides, ensnaring Justin's wrists with one hand. He brings them up over the boy's head so that they're hanging over the arm of the couch, arching Justin's back a little more than it is naturally. "Don't move them," he warns, "or I'll have to spank you again." Justin nods, groaning a little around the ice cube in his mouth, and even more when Brian's thumb reaches up to swipe around his lower lip, leaving a bit of water intentionally on Justin's chin.

He drags the ice cube across Justin's pectorals and begins lavishing attention onto his other nipple, fascinated by watching the bud harden. His head bows to lap up some of the residue, his tongue still chilled from before. Justin's nipples are pert, hard not only from the excitement of the scenario, but the icy stimulation, and Brian revels in the exquisite sounds Justin emits as he sucks and nibbles on and around them. Sitting up, Brian contents himself watching Justin vacillate heavily, brows furrowing as he slides the melting cube strategically along the soft outlines of his stomach muscles. Again, Brian's tongue trails after it, picking up the residual droplets left on Justin's pale skin. 

Justin's eyelids flutter as Brian's damp fingertips trail along his inner thighs. He watches apprehensively as Brian sucks the remaining bit of ice cube into his mouth, wondering if his lover is going to be sadistic enough to rub it against his cock, and knowing that Brian is getting a kick out of keeping him on edge like this. His own ice cube is small enough to suck completely into his mouth at this point, and he does, annoyed that the sudden movement causes water to slide down his chin and along his jaw, straight to his neckline. He's also pretty sure that Brian finds the debauchedness of it incredibly erotic. 

Brian kisses his inner thighs, teasingly blowing cool air around Justin's balls and along the underside of his straining cock. The tip of his tongue trails up the darkened vein, and even it has been cooled by the ice. "Mmmmgggh," Justin gurgles, swallowing some of the water inside of his mouth; he moans Brian's name around the remaining ice, and repeats it louder and more persistently when his lover's tongue plays with his slit. Brian's lukewarm mouth is fucking the head of his cock, now, chilled fingers wrapped around the base, and it inflames Justin's senses to a fever pitch. Numbly, his fingers clutch the arm of the couch as he tries to obey the 'no touching' rule; he contents himself, instead, with yowling around the ever-shrinking shard of ice in his mouth. 

Brian's tongue is flattened and swirling around the head of his cock, now, his fingers cupping and rolling Justin's sac with agonizing tenderness. "Brian," Justin pants happily, mouth no longer obstructed; it quickly becomes a sharp hiss, however, as his lover takes his entire dick down his throat, stopping for a few seconds to listen to Justin's keening cry as his nose brushes against the curly pubic hairs surrounding the boy's cock. He releases it partially, then deep-throats him again, smiling and chuckling around his mouthful as Justin's eyes practically roll back into his head; the vibrations of Brian's soft laughter only add to the exquisite torture. 

Justin's chest heaves as he feels himself nearing release; head thrown back, mouth open, legs stretched with his toes practically curling, the blond lets out an angry wail when Brian suddenly stops. "Brian, goddammit, fuck me!" he screams.

Brian raises an eyebrow. "I give the orders, Sunshine," he says, slinking up the boy's body until he's practically laying on top of him. The pleading look in Justin's eyes makes him relent a bit, however; he always has been a sucker for the puppy face. "Beg me," he commands, inherently knowing it won't take much as soon as Justin starts moving his hips in tiny little circles, grinding his cock against the front of Brian's pants. 

"Please, Brian," Justin breathes throatily. "Please, fuck me. Put your hard cock up my ass and let me ride it." The boy uses his own brand of torture, however limited given his position, and kisses along Brian's jawline, his neck, and the shell of his ear. "Please," he purrs in the older man's ear, and suddenly, Brian complies with a growl, hurriedly sitting up and divesting himself of his clothing. Justin hurries to assist, tugging Brian's shirt over his head and fishing around in the pants Brian drops on the floor for a condom and the travel-size container of lubricant that he knows Brian keeps in one of the front pockets. 

Brian sits on the edge of the couch, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth; no matter how many times Justin sees him do it, his cock always jumps a little at the familiar sight and sound. Brian's own cock is just as hard, and he rolls the prophylactic onto it with little difficulty. He pats his lap, giving Justin a come-hither smile, and the boy doesn't have to be told twice. He straddles Brian's legs, facing him and wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. Brian acquiesces to a kiss, one that leads to a heated make-out session; Brian fumbles blindly with the lubricant, having applied it without looking enough times that he's pretty sure he could still manage if he were not only blind, but also deaf and dumb. 

Coating two of his fingers, Brian reaches behind Justin and presses them against his opening. Instinctively, Justin lifts his ass up an increment or two, throwing his head back as Brian's digits slide into his hole. It's a tight fit, and Brian waits, as he always does, just a moment for Justin to adjust, then pulls them out and presses them back in again. "Like that?" Brian husks, and Justin nods, eyelids fluttering as Brian hits his prostate especially sharply. 

When Brian's cock is sufficiently smeared with both his and Justin's pre-come, he acquiesces to Justin's earlier plea to be fucked. Pulling his fingers out of Justin's now-well-lubricated asshole, the older man grips Justin's buttocks, positioning the boy over his hard member. Justin buries his face in the crook of Brian's neck and lets out a heady moan as he's penetrated, first by just the head and then, inch by inch, with the rest of his lover's dick. Nine inches slide in and out of him, sensations laced with both pleasure and pain, and Justin loves every second of it. 

"See ... what happens ... when y-you ... obey me?" Brian gasps, smacking one of the boy's ass cheeks as if to remind him of the scenario's original framework. 

Justin nods, planting hot, wet kisses along the curve of Brian's neck and shoulder. He nearly snakes his hand down to begin jacking himself off, realizing as Brian's thrusts get harder and faster that the pounding sensation in his backside will not last forever, but suddenly decides to continue playing along. "P-please, touch me, Brian," he gasps. "Jerk me off; let me come all over your hand so I can watch you taste it." Brian grins, obviously pleased that Justin remembers to stay in character, such that it is, and acquiesces, fisting the boy's cock and thrusting relentlessly into Justin's ass with his own member. 

"Aaahh, Brian!" Justin cries out as he's tipped over the edge, seed spilling onto his lover's already lube-slicked fingers. He grips Brian's knees, steading himself as he feels the other man's orgasm rumble through him, hears Brian groaning, sees his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open as if he's just found religion. Even the smell is indicative of their recent activities - not a bad smell, just a sex smell, and one that Justin's pretty sure he'll never tire of. 

Brian collapses back against the couch a moment later, Justin following, knees pressed against the back cushion on either side of Brian's waist. Brian grins as Justin brushes sweaty dark bangs from his eyes, the expression changing to only a slight grimace as he gingerly maneuvers himself out of the boy's backside. "That was fucking hot," he finally says, the declaration a fair indication that they're no longer playing the obedience game. 

"Yeah," Justin pants, "wow." He watches as Brian licks one of his digits, sticky with Justin's come, and clamours for a kiss, astounded by how not-grossed-out he is at the thought of tasting himself on Brian's tongue. Eventually, Justin slides off of Brian, who languidly stands and stretches; he collects the neglected ice cube tray and one of the Chinese take-out boxes, now full of lukewarm food, and takes them to the kitchen, and Justin follows suit. 

"See?" Brian asks, breaking the not-entirely-unpleasant silence betwixt them. "It's those kinds of extracurricular activities that you're going to be missing out on by working at odd hours of the morning." He realizes that their usual post-coital high will inevitably lessen with talk of serious matters like Justin's shady new employer, but it's important, he tells himself.

Justin, however, just rolls his eyes good-naturedly and kisses Brian soundly on the lips, almost as if he's patting a puppy on the head sadly after it finishes piddling on the floor. "I'm sure I'll find plenty of time for this," he murmurs against Brian's mouth; he turns to head off to the bathroom for a quick shower, but Brian pulls on his arm, tugging him back around to face him. 

"What if you get prepositioned?" Brian asks, voice a bit desperate even though he'd never admit it, or allow Justin to get away with calling him on it, for that matter. "What if there was a situation that you couldn't get out of?" 

"It's just business, Brian," Justin protests, wrenching his arm away. "I'm sure I'll be able to handle it." He manages to successfully pivot on his heel this time and walks off, leaving Brian in the middle of the kitchen, holding a soggy container of kung-pow chicken. 

'You might be able to handle it, Sunshine,' he thinks morosely, tossing the small, compact box into the refrigerator next to a bottle of Jim Beam. 'But I'm not sure I can.'


End file.
